


Your Type

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega Verse, omega kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:48:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9372917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Neither is what the other expected. Still... it could work.





	

Kylo chews his lip. Chewing is really a weak word for what he’s doing, because - damnit - this is… He’s _never_. No one but the medical staff and Snoke. He’s never told anyone, because who would ever - _ever_ \- follow his lead knowing he’s _one of them_?

An omega. 

Not just any omega, but a male omega. A male omega who is taller than any other male aboard, and who is broader, and stronger, and who would likely have been stronger _still_ if his biology had done what everyone expected of it. 

But no. Here he is, an omega. 

An omega with a _crush_ , which is also ridiculous. He hates the fact his body is probably trying to break through his hormonal blockers and convince him to get in the family way, but he can’t stop thinking about the other man.

Who - in all likelihood - hates him. And so this…

“Hux.”

“Yes, Ren?”

“I…” He swallows. “You do not have a mate.”

Suspicious, pale eyes bore into him. “I do not.”

“Are - uh - I mean…” So smooth. So smooth, Kylo. Maybe just wipe him now and run away.

“Look, I don’t appreciate the assumption your type always make. I’m not looking to start a family, I have a career, and anyway–”

“My type?” Kylo cuts in.  


“Yes. You’re always swaggering around, assuming you can just puff your chest out and get what you want.”  


 _Your_ type. Which would make sense if Hux thought he was an Alpha, but if Hux thought he was an Alpha, surely he’d just say ‘I don’t swing my own way’? And… “Hux. You do… know what I am?”

“Annoying,” Hux replies, pinching his nose.  


Perfect. Just perfect. “Omega, actually.”

He says it as blithely as he can, and feels the sudden raised eyebrows like fingernails up a starched window. “Omega.”

“Yes.”  


“ _You_. Kylo Ren. Omega.”  


“Hux, did I fucking stutter?”  


“You… wait. _Wait_. What do you think _I_ am?”  


“…well, I assumed you were an Alpha, because you act like one.”  


“Says _you_?”  


“Says me,” Kylo admits. “Seeing as Alphas get to run the show, that’s… what I thought you were. But you’re…”  


“Really? We’re playing ‘whack our tackle out on the table’?”  


“Beta,” Kylo concludes. Which. Actually is pretty hilarious? Because Kylo doesn’t really want to carry children, and he’d _sort of maybe_ thought _if he had to_ and couldn’t fit a coil or something with Hux, mostly wanting the sex and the… you know. _Him_. But here’s Hux, mostly infertile, entirely incapable of knotting, and precisely what Kylo does, and does not want. In one.  


“Says the omega,” Hux spits.  


“Look. I don’t want children. I don’t even give a fuck whether you can tie me without assistance. I… felt…” What? “I wanted to… see if we could work it out.”  


“You… want a beta?” Hux frowns. “I can’t even end your heats, you know.”  


“No. But I’ve heard that can make them even better. Some omegas swear by not fucking Alphas, you know, so they get the full flush of it.” Kylo _has_ read up on things. When - uh - the edges of his hormones bled over the suppressants. “You can still… can’t you?”  


“If you mean: attain and maintain an erection, then - as crude as this discussion is - yes. But you’ll… won’t you just want a nice, strong Alpha to breed you? That’s what you omegas all do. You run around lifting your ass, and then when someone comes along who can tie you down, you roll over and coo.”  


“Hux.” How does he… “I haven’t ever  _wanted_ any Alpha. Even ones who weren’t on suppresants of their own. You’re the only one I ever… you know. Thought about. And I didn’t even want to ask you because it’s _embarrassing_ , but…” He shrugs. “I think we could make it work. If you wanted to.”

“Can I… think about it?”  


“Sure,” Kylo says, and hates that maybe he sounds like a pathetic omega. “…over dinner?”  


“How about I… ask you for dinner if I think I want to try?” Hux counters.  


Kylo nods. Acceptable. “You’re buying,” he says, turning on his heel as smartly as he can, to hide the fact he’s gone bright red at the thought of _dating Hux_. 

He’s barely got back to his room before he sees he’s got a comm waiting. 

 _Tonight. My quarters. No mask inside_.

Well: step one is completed. Now he just has to get Hux to fall in love with him, and then see if his dick really is enough, or if shoving fingers in too will make him come. (He suspects Hux will more than make up for a few inches of flesh. The man is, after all, a tactical genius. Hence Kylo’s initial attraction.)

Now.. what in the stars should he wear? Black. Always black.

And tight. Because he’s going to flaunt every inch of his not-really-omega-like self. He has to make a good impression, after all.


End file.
